All That Remains
by Aoife-hime
Summary: [SxS, FxS, TxY] Six years after the beginning of Kinomoto Sakura's card capturing adventures, an old evil resurfaces in Japan, seeking a return to power.
1. Prologue

A/N: In honor of my third anniversary in this fandom, my mind has been hijacked by a plot bunny the likes of which I haven't experienced in years. Please, enjoy the results.

**All That Remains**

_Prologue_

The grass is stiff as she walks slowly forward, prickling and sticking to the soles of her feet in an unpleasant fashion and making shivers race up her spine as a result. She supposes it is night; what else would explain the absence of light so complete that she can't even make out her own hands when she holds them up in front of her eyes? A part of her mind tells her it would be safer to stop, to wait in place instead of continuing ahead blindly to goodness knows what end. But she doesn't stop – _can't_ stop – and stumbles on her way regardless of her own safety. Her hand reaches up unconsciously to trace the small pendant that hangs from around her neck. Its warmth comforts her even as the darkness closes in further around her, feeling more and more like a heavy, wet blanket than a simple absence of light with each passing moment.

It could be a few seconds or it could be an hour, for it is impossible to tell how exactly time passes in this realm of deep Night, but at some point she becomes aware of a light spot at the edge of her vision. Not more than a pinprick, it's bright enough to make spots dance across her vision. Blinking, she races towards the light, her feet pounding against the hard-packed earth and nearly slipping on the slick, sticky grass. Her heart pounds fast in her chest, and with each step the pendant around her neck bounces off her sternum with a muffled thunk. But the light is farther away than she had originally thought; she fights the urge to collapse as she finally is able to make out the outline of a grand, weeping sakura tree lit by a full moon. She walks the rest of the way – staggers, really, for her legs have begun to feel uncomfortably weak and useless as if they will suddenly stop working at any moment and leave her stranded just short of her goal. An unpleasant metallic taste builds in her nose and mouth, and the blossoms feel light against the bare skin of her arms as she brushes the cascading tendrils aside. She stops only when she is able to rest a hand on the bark of the thick, old trunk.

A second later she pulls her hand back, a slight startled hiss escaping her lips: the bark is cold – colder than the winter wind that haunts the mountain peaks she still visits occasionally – and slick with the same substance as the grass. She takes a step back, and then another, tearing at the low hanging branches of the sakura tree in her haste. When she is free from the tree's shadow, she properly looks at the ground.

She wants to scream, but finds her throat so constricted by fear and surprise that no sound is able to emerge.

The grass beneath her feet shines a sickly brown-red in the austere light of the moon, and her feet are likewise covered in the same substance: blood. She doesn't want to think about it, shakes her head in denial to stop the word from blaring across her mind, but it does no good and her eyes remain riveted on the ground in front of her. Distantly, she can feel her heart speed up again and her lungs ache as she pulls in quick, fast breaths that are far too short to keep her head from spinning. As she raises her hands in front of her, she finds her one palm, the palm that rested only for a moment on the trunk of the sakura tree, also covered in a thick, slick layer of the blood. Furiously, she wipes her palm on the leg of her pants, not caring about the stain she is surely working into the fabric. But try as she might, the blood won't rub away; her hand still sticks slightly to the fabric with each pass and she can't stop her skin from crawling.

She's not sure how long she panics – it feels like an eternity – but she stills when she hears a voice. Soft at first, barely louder than the rustle of the blossoms on the tree in front of her, but then louder, a laughter that grows deeper and higher and wider all at the same time. It fills her mind, seeping into every recess of her being until she feels as if she can't possibly take anymore and she will burst if the laughter continues even one second longer. Her hands block her ears, but the sound continues to reverberate and she can no longer _hear_ it so much as she can _feel_ it.

And then it stops, as if it had never started in the first place. She opens her eyes, surprised to find she had closed them so hard that tears line the corners, and stands up shakily, not realizing she had fallen to the ground as well. Her pants stick uncomfortably to her knees where they had been pressed into the bloody grass. When her head is clear, she realizes something is different. Beneath the tree is a woman who wasn't there before, and she can only guess that it is this person who was the source of the terrible laughter only moments before.

The woman's beauty is truly something to behold: her figure is tall and lithe, her eyes wide and dark, her skin pale and unblemished. Long hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect sheets and her robes, magnificent in their intricacy and simplicity, are a pure, deep red no dye could ever emulate. Her face is expressionless, but there is an eager tension in her posture, like a horse straining at the reigns. Her gait is sedate, though, as she moves out from the shadows and into the moonlight. There's no excess movement, and each step seems as if it were better suited to a dance than a walk.

Her pale lips curl back slowly into a smile that is neither comforting nor beautiful as she approaches the girl with the blood-stained feet and hands.

"Do you not find my home pleasing?" Her question is all innocence and sincerity, but a gleam in her dark eyes belies the malice hidden beneath the surface. The girl does not, cannot, answer though; her tongue is locked in place and her eyes find they can't stray from the woman's gaze. "No? I suppose it is an acquired taste…" The woman smiles at that, a joke with herself that the girl is too frozen to try to even begin to understand. She leaves the girl standing in the moonlight and walks over to the nearest branch of blossoms, reaching up and stroking the petals lightly with her pale fingertips. One by one they change, their pink hue deepening to a bright red at the tips and nearly violet at the base. The change spreads up the branch and throughout the tree until each blossom has taken on the hue of the woman's robes.

"Who…? Who… are…?" The sounds pass slowly through the girl's throat and her mouth has a hard time shaping them into words. The woman turns back to her. This time, no smile graces her features, and her eyes are hard as she turns away from the spectacle of her beloved blossoms.

"You are nothing but a child. What gives you the right to address me in so informal a manner?" Her voice is even but the edge to it is as sharp as a hot knife, and it slices across the girl's mind before she even realizes the woman has spoken. "You will know soon enough what my name is and when you do, then you will die as befits your kind."

A breeze starts from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, whipping the girl's hair around her face. It sticks to the blood left there by her palm, and she hastily brushes it back. But the woman in front of her, terrible and fierce and magnificent, remains unaffected. The now-red petals detach from the branches, and the wind swirls like great currents of blood. The girl looks on with horror and the currents shift, whirling inexorably in her direction. The first petals land gently on her cheeks and _melt_, trailing down her skin like thick tears. She raises a hand to wipe away the moisture and freezes once more: the tips of her fingers are covered blood. Looking back at the woman, the girl's eyes are filled with the vision of the woman reveling as blossoms turn to blood, leaving their trails on her pale skin.

Finally, the girl screams.

* * *

Sakura's eyes snapped open, though her body remained frozen for a few moments longer as sleep reluctantly released its grip on her. Her heart was racing, beating so hard in her chest she was amazed the noise didn't wake up Kero-chan, yet her blankets weren't twisted like they normally were when she woke up from a nightmare. They lay straight on her bed, her legs and feet the only lumps spoiling the otherwise neat surface. Moonlight slipped through a crack in her curtains, slicing across the blankets like a white knife. 

_Moonlight…_

As her breathing slowed back to normal and the paralyzing fear subsided, Sakura thought back to what had scared her so much in the first place: a dream. There had been moonlight, she was sure of it, but beyond that… absently, her hand rose to her neck, fingering the pendant that always hung there. Her key. It pulsed with a warm, comforting energy that settled her nerves and cleared her head. She took a deep breath.

"Think, Sakura," she mumbled aloud. "What happened in the dream?"

_Moonlight._

"Moonlight and…?"

There was more to her dream than moonlight, she was certain. It was as if someone had taken a scissors to her mind left a gaping hole in her memory, though; all she could remember was falling asleep and waking up, nothing in between. She rubbed her eyes in frustration. They felt grainy and heavy, and ached for the sleep of which they had temporarily been deprived. If only she could remember just a little more…

The minutes wore on, and as each one passed Sakura's eyes grew more and more heavy. The memory of her dream seemed to flit just within her grasp, tantalizing yet impossible to pin down and try as she might she couldn't recall a single detail save the one thing: moonlight. An uneasy sleep eventually descended over her, accompanied by Kero-chan's light snores drifting slowly up from his bed in her desk drawer.

When morning came, she had forgotten everything.

* * *

She's running again, though whether she's running _to_ something or _away_ from something, she's not certain. It could be either, and the sense of sick anticipation building somewhere behind her stomach isn't enough to distinguish between the two possibilities. Her breath comes out in short gasps now, and her blood pounds in her ears as she presses on through the all-encompassing darkness. There's a sort of pull she can almost physically feel, tugging her onwards through the everlasting night, and while she's not entirely sure she wants to give in to it, there are no other options but to follow. 

And then she sees it: the sakura tree, tall and twisted and magnificent. Its blossoms are already a deep pink, and her eyes lock on the figure of a woman running her fingers through the lowest branches. She is struck by the woman's beauty, for it's a beauty so flawless she thinks it would be a crime for anything to blemish it in any way. But something tells her not to be deceived: there is more to this woman than meets the eye, and so she stays far away, stopping in her tracks a fair distance from even the edge of the sakura tree's shadow in the moonlight. Her hand flies to her neck, grasping the pendant of her key, ready to unleash it at a moment's notice.

The problem is, she's not entirely sure why she's so on edge. It's almost as if she has met this strange woman before, but surely she would remember an encounter with such an extraordinary woman, wouldn't she?

The woman turns now, her smile so fierce and feral it makes her face seem more animal than human. "I see you have retained some memory of our last encounter. How unusual." The woman plucks a blossom, now a deep crimson, and threads it through her hair above her ear. In the moonlight, her pale skin seems almost translucent, like a perfect sheet of rice paper. She takes a step forward then, closer to the girl whose vision is overwhelmed by the flood of scarlet sakura blossoms lit against the darkness of the Night. The girl doesn't dare look down for fear of what she might see, nor does she dare to gaze upon the woman approaching her for fear of what she might not see.

The voice in the back of her mind that told her not to go any farther forward screams at her now that if she were to look at the woman, she wouldn't see human eyes staring back. So she doesn't look. But she does run. And when she runs she is pursued, not by footsteps but by laughter, laughter that fills her mind with thoughts of freezing darkness and sets her nerves on edge. She slips, the grass now slick beneath her feet, but she scrambles to her feet quickly before it can catch her.

The laughter stops abruptly, but the girl continues to run. _How silly humans are…_ The words fill the girl's head as if they are being spoken all around her and even inside of her. And then the woman is in front of her, inescapably close.

"Just a taste, dear. Just a taste…"

The girl screams.

* * *

Sakura stumbled down the stairs the next morning, still struggling to tie up her hair as she wandered over to her seat at the breakfast table. A selection of food greeted her, organized aesthetically on her plate, but she didn't really take notice of it. All she could tell from her half-awake senses was that it smelled more than edible and for that she was incredibly grateful. "Thank you, 'tou-san," she mumbled, her muscles still lazy from sleep. Sakura bit back a yawn and blinked hard, trying to push her exhaustion aside, at least for the time being. 

Kinomoto Fujitaka poked his head out of the kitchen where he was busy preparing his own food for the morning to check in on his daughter. He almost dropped his spatula in shock: she sat slouched at the table, her eyes barely open as she robotically stuffed food into her mouth. "Are you alright, Sakura-san? You're not feeling sick are you?"

"No," she managed through a mouthful of rice. Sakura swallowed before continuing. "I'm just a little tired. I don't think I slept well last night." That was the strange thing, though: she couldn't actually remember whether she had slept well or not. She thought she remembered waking up to a sense of overwhelming fear, but the memory was so jumbled that she couldn't be entirely sure she hadn't just dreamt that as well. It was all very confusing and made Sakura's head spin just thinking about it.

"Do you have club activities today?" Fujitaka asked, sitting down across from Sakura with his own plate full of food.

It took a moment for Sakura to run through the days of the week in her mind before she remembered which one today was. Thursday. She had cheerleading club on Thursday. "Yes," she replied, silently a little disappointed she wouldn't be able to hurry straight home after school and take a nap.

"Be home before dark." Sakura looked up from her food at this, her eyes suddenly wide open. There was something unsettling in her father's tone. "With all these disappearances lately, I don't want you out too late," Fujitaka added, with a vaguely worried expression.

"Disappearances?" The word sat uneasily in Sakura's stomach somewhere between the eggs and rice. Her father handed her the morning paper, and in a box at the bottom of the front page she saw the pictures of five people. The headline stated that these were just the latest in a surprising increase in missing persons cases near the Tomoeda area. Sakura chewed her lip absently as she skimmed the rest of the article. Twelve people in total, no discernable correlation between any of them, all went missing at night…

"I know you can take care of yourself, but I would feel a lot better knowing you weren't a possible target."

Sakura smiled reassuringly, forgetting momentarily about sleep and dreams, clubs and school. "Don't worry, 'tou-san. I won't be out too late."

* * *

She doesn't bother moving this time. This time, the woman will have to come to her. Until then, she is content to wait in the darkness until she is able to leave once more. 

It takes nearly forever for the woman to make an appearance, and by the time she appears, the moon traveling with her like a sort of entourage, the girl's feet are going numb and her legs ache from standing so long. When she can see her, the girl can tell the woman is angry. Her movements are the same as ever, flawless and efficient and inhumanly graceful, but there's a speed to them that suggests impatience boiling just beneath the surface.

"You remembered again." It's not so much a statement as it is an accusation, though for the life of her the girl doesn't understand what she is being accused of doing. Remembering is as natural as breathing. Besides, it's difficult to forget a place such as this, where the sun never shines and ground is covered in blood.

"Yes." The girl is not certain if she's being defiant or honest. She doesn't think she has the guts for either, but she doesn't know what else her answer could be construed as so she goes with 'honest' because she knows she doesn't want to know what would happen to her if her answer was 'defiant' instead.

"That is unacceptable," the woman growls, her words barely distinguishable over the deep rumblings.

"Why?"

This time when the woman's lips curl back into a smile, they reveal a set of perfect white teeth, two drastically sharper than the rest. The girl wants to run, her brain is veritably screaming at her muscles to carry her far, far away from whatever creature it is that's standing in front of her now, but she can't. Her legs are frozen in place, her feet rooted to the ground in fear as the woman takes a step closer, then another and still another until the girl can feel the woman's hair against her cheek.

"Because you are merely human."


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Okay, I think I've been bitten by the verbosity bug or something. Usually it takes me more than two days to write something this long!

**All That Remains**

_Chapter One  
_

"Sakura-chan. Sakura-chan! Wake up!" Daidouji Tomoyo hissed discretely at the girl who was currently slumped over at her desk. Her words didn't seem to penetrate her friend's restful state, however. Worriedly, Tomoyo glanced up at the teacher currently pacing around the front of the class, English textbook open and reading aloud from it. She didn't seem to have noticed that one of her students was currently napping through the English lesson. Tomoyo breathed a small sigh of relief. Itamura-sensei was incredibly strict and didn't take kindly to students not giving her their undivided attention during lessons. There was no other period during the day that class 1-4 of Seijuu High School was nearly so well behaved as they were during their English lesson.

Frustrated that nothing seemed to be working, Tomoyo finally resorted to prodding her friend in the back with her pencil. It was anything but subtle, but by this point Tomoyo was getting desperate. Sakura merely shifted slightly in response, however, unconsciously trying to escape the poking and ultimately refusing to awaken. Tomoyo bit her lip. Itamura-sensei only had two paragraphs left and then she'd undoubtedly realize her one student's inattentiveness.

Tomoyo wouldn't have been trying nearly so hard had this not been the third time that week that Sakura had fallen asleep during English class. The first two times had resulted in an extra worksheet or two, but Tomoyo had a feeling that any further offenses would result in something worse. And the last thing she wanted for her friend was the stress of extra work, what with summer break only a few days away. They'd all spent last summer studying hard just to get into high school and now that they were finally here, Tomoyo for one was more than ready to spend the long, hot days of summer doing something other than poring over her textbooks day in and day out.

As Itamura-sensei finished the last sentence of the passage she had been reading, Tomoyo decided to do the one last thing she could think of to do to wake Sakura up. Praying that Itamura-sensei would take the disruption with uncharacteristic good grace (Tomoyo was her favorite student, after all – that had to count for something), Daidouji Tomoyo discretely closed her textbook and pushed it off the side of her desk. It landed with a predictably loud bang on the floor, immediately drawing the eyes of each and every one of her startled classmates.

"Daidouji-san!" exclaimed Itamura-sensei, who had jumped a few inches off the ground at the sudden noise and had to adjust her glasses that had fallen off of one ear in the process.

"Excuse me, Itamura-sensei. It seems my book was resting too close to the end of my desk," Tomoyo apologized, cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment. "I shall be more careful in the future." She gave her most contrite look and watched with relief as Itamura-sensei's severe expression relaxed into a vaguely displeased frown.

"Yes, you had better," was all that the teacher said before moving onto the questions listed at the end of the passage. Tomoyo sat back with a deep sigh of relief, and re-opened her textbook to the questions Itamura-sensei was asking. In front of her, Sakura was most assuredly awake, and Tomoyo heard the pages of her friend's textbook rustle as she rapidly skimmed the story through which she had just slept. Fortunately, the only time Itamura-sensei ever even looked at their side of the classroom was the couple of times she called on Tomoyo. Sakura, for all her feverish last-minute work, was never called on.

That was very much like Sakura, though, Tomoyo reflected as she finished answering question eight for Itamura-sensei. She had always had uncannily good luck.

When English class ended and Itamura-sensei had taken her books and left, Sakura let out a groan and her head crashed gently onto her open book. A few moments later, she pulled herself upright once more and turned around in her seat to face her friend. "Thank you for waking me up again, Tomoyo-chan," she said with no little embarrassment. "I don't think Itamura-sensei would have liked it if she caught me napping again."

"I don't think so either," Tomoyo agreed, glancing over the night's homework briefly before filing it away neatly in her folder. "Are you feeling alright, Sakura-chan? This is the third English lesson you've fallen asleep in this week." At this, Sakura grinned sheepishly, scratching her head.

"It's just so hard to stay awake when Itamura-sensei reads those long stories…" While Tomoyo acknowledged there was more than a little bit of truth to that statement, the excuse wasn't enough to wipe the worried look from her face. After a moment, Sakura continued, her brow furrowed slightly in vague confusion. "Honestly, I don't think I've been sleeping well lately."

"You don't _think_?"

"Well, it's strange," Sakura defended. "It's a little hard to explain, but I don't remember anything odd happening. Then when I wake up in the morning, though, I feel as if I've been awake all night." She yawned then, as if to punctuate her statement and rubbed a hand over her eyes. When Tomoyo looked closely, she could see dark circles under Sakura's eyes, a tell-tale sign of not getting enough sleep.

"Have you talked to Kero-chan about this? Or Li-kun? " As worried as she was for her friend, Tomoyo still was very much out of the loop as far as anything remotely magic-related was concerned, even after all these years. And from her cursory explanation, it sounded to Tomoyo very much as if something magic-related was occurring.

Sakura shook her head. "No, I don't want to bother them. And besides, Kero-chan hasn't mentioned sensing anything strange, and he sleeps in the same room as me!" She yawned again. "I think I'm just overreacting."

While Tomoyo didn't want to admit it, Sakura did have a point: if a magical creature like the mighty Keroberos didn't notice anything wrong when he slept not three feet from Sakura, it was possible that Sakura was just suffering from a strange bout of insomnia. Still, Tomoyo didn't feel entirely certain that the answer wasn't something magic-related. "I don't know, Sakura-chan… This could be something important."

"What could be important?"

Tomoyo simply turned to face the new arrival while Sakura jumped in her seat, sending the notebook that had been sitting on her desk to the floor. "Syaoran-kun!" Sakura exclaimed, hastily picking up the notebook and pointedly not meeting his rather intense gaze. "It's nothing, really, I'm just having a little trouble sleeping that's all."

"Bad dreams?" he asked, expression serious. Commandeering the vacant seat of the person who normally sat next to Sakura, Syaoran continued to fix Sakura with a stare.

"No," Sakura replied quickly, almost defensively, and Tomoyo wondered if maybe she was right in thinking there was something unnatural to her friend's lack of sleep. Obviously, Syaoran didn't believe her entirely either because his stare didn't relent. "Well, yes," Sakura amended, and Syaoran nodded slowly, frowning. "Maybe, I don't really know! I just… when I wake up in the morning it feels like I've been up all night, but I _know_ I've been in bed, sleeping. It's so strange, almost as if something is blocking my memories…"

Syaoran's frown deepened. "It would take an extremely powerful sorcerer to be able to manipulate the dreams of someone like you. In fact, I've never even heard of anyone that powerful."

"So it's just a false alarm, right?" Sakura asked with cheer that was just a little forced. Tomoyo could tell she wasn't really up for discussing the matter so intensely at the moment. "I'm just not sleeping well and this will all pass in a few days."

Syaoran's brow furrowed in frustration. "Just because I haven't heard of anyone that powerful, doesn't mean they don't exist," he pointed out.

"But they probably don't, so there's nothing to worry about, right?"

"I don't think that's the right logic-"

"You're both coming to the choir competition on Saturday evening?" Tomoyo interrupted before her friends could start up an argument that would undoubtedly last the rest of the break time.

Sakura glanced quickly over at Syaoran. Their eyes met for a second before looking away again. Right. They had promised Tomoyo they would go to the choir's summer competition, hadn't they? "Of course we're going, Tomoyo-chan. We wouldn't miss it!"

Tomoyo laughed to herself. She had caught the split-second look shared between the two teens. They'd forgotten. It wasn't entirely surprising, especially given what Sakura had just told her about not being able to sleep well at night and Tomoyo would be lying if she said that her friends' forgetfulness had ruined her day. But still, it hurt a little that neither Sakura nor Syaoran had remembered that the big choral competition was this coming Saturday. Especially since she had a key solo in Seijuu choir's program. She had been looking forward to having her friends hear her sing for weeks now. "Of course you wouldn't. Don't forget to show up early enough though; apparently the auditorium is sold out so you'll want to make sure you can get a good enough seat. I could ask mother to save you both a spot if you would like?"

"Oh would you? That would be great." Knowing Tomoyo's mother, Sakura was fairly certain her aunt would be the first person to arrive at the auditorium and would undoubtedly stake out the best seats in the room that gave the most optimum view of her daughter on stage. "You'll do amazing, Tomoyo-chan, just like always." Syaoran nodded in agreement and Tomoyo smiled. It would be nice to have a few familiar faces out in the audience. Especially ones as supportive as her mother and Sakura, and even Li-kun.

"Thank you, I'll try my hardest."

* * *

The last few days of class dragged by slowly. By the time the end of term ceremonies took place, Sakura was more than ready for her vacation to start, if only because it would mean that she wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep in class for a while. Things hadn't improved as the week wore on: by the ceremonies, Sakura felt remarkably like one of the zombies Yamazaki-kun had told her about back in middle school. In fact, she was fairly certain she dozed off for a second while standing, packed in line in the gymnasium and listening to the principal drone on about the responsibilities of the students over the break. One minute he had been talking about staying healthy, and the next he had switched to talk of summer assignments and classes. However, as Principal Matsui was renowned for his interesting segues (or rather, lack thereof), Sakura couldn't be entirely certain. 

Despite her exhaustion, though, Sakura refused to let anything get in the way of her attending Tomoyo's choral competition that weekend. So when Saturday afternoon rolled around, she was already dressed and ready, standing at the door to Syaoran's apartment, completely ready to drag the reluctant boy all the way to the auditorium if the need arose. She had gone to bed extra early and woken up as late as she could manage and while she was still a little tired when the insistent morning sun forced her out of bed, she had to admit she felt a lot more awake than she had in days. As per Tomoyo's instructions, Sakura made sure to show up to the concert half an hour earlier than she had originally planned to go, a predictably unenthusiastic Syaoran in tow. He had been making indistinct grumblings about how it was silly to show up to such a thing so far in advance especially when there was a soccer match on television, and secretly Sakura agreed with him (about the showing up early part, not necessarily about the soccer part) but Tomoyo was usually far more well-informed in these matters so she had heeded her friend's advice and set out early. However, all complaints, both those voiced and those kept silent, were forgotten the moment the pair set foot in the auditorium.

In spite of the fact that there was still over an hour until the first group started performing, the cavernous room was at least half full, though it was hard to tell exactly as most people were weaving through the rows of seats, moving from conversation to conversation faster than either Sakura or Syaoran could process. Sakura rose up on the tips of her toes, scanning the crowd for the tell-tale signs of her aunt and her normal complement of body guards and wasn't at all surprised to find Daidouji Sonomi had claimed the better part of a row just far enough away from the stage that she wouldn't have to crane her neck to see the performers, but still close enough to make out every last detail of the performers' attire.

"Sakura-chan! Over here, Sakura-chan!" Sonomi waved with all the enthusiasm of a small child at an amusement park as soon as she spotted the two teens. It didn't seem to matter that they were half an auditorium away from each other, for Sonomi was perfectly capable of making herself heard over crowds far larger than this one, and Syaoran for one found the extra attention drawn to them as they squished past clump after clump of people more than a little embarrassing. He was fairly sure his cheeks were a bright red by the time he and Sakura reached Daidouji Sonomi's seats. Sakura, too, looked a little more red than usual. Syaoran smiled absently and gripped her hand a little tighter as they wound around another crowd of chatting middle-aged women blocking the aisle. She was even cuter than usual when she was embarrassed.

"Thank you for saving us seats, Aunt Sonomi," Sakura thanked Sonomi as soon as she and Syaoran reached the row in question. Two dangerous-looking women in dark suits and glasses parted to let the two of them through, and as soon as they were close enough Sonomi pulled Sakura into a warm hug. Syaoran looked on, amused, hoping that the same fate wouldn't befall him in a few seconds. Thankfully, all he received from Tomoyo's mother was a look that in some way could possibly have been construed as approving, though there was a distinct possibility that she was still judging him, even after all these years.

Li Syaoran may have been the Chosen One of the prestigious Li clan and a skilled fighter in his own right, but there was something truly intimidating about Daidouji women that made him want to do as little as possible to upset them. He smiled politely in return, an expression he had worked hard on over the years he'd lived in Japan. Sonomi's mouth turned up slightly at the corner before she returned her attentions to her niece. Well, Syaoran mused as he sat in the seat next to Sakura and started studying the glossy program he'd been handed at the entrance, it wasn't a smile, but it would suffice.

A quick scan of the program revealed that Seijuu's choir would be performing second to last. There were four other choirs before them. Syaoran cringed when he saw the one choir had seven songs listed under their set. Hopefully, they would be very short songs. Seijuu was performing a modest four songs, the last of which was listed as featuring Daidouji Tomoyo as a soloist. The piece was something Western, though even if it had been something from Hong Kong or Japan, Syaoran realized he probably still wouldn't have known it. Music had never exactly been part of his training program, after all.

"Oh, look Syaoran-kun! Tomoyo-chan has a solo!" Sakura pointed out excitedly, accidentally shoving the glossy program booklet in his face in her enthusiasm. "Sorry," she apologized, grinning sheepishly, and Syaoran tried to look annoyed but found that even after nearly six years he still couldn't remain upset in the face of that smile.

"Yeah, yeah," he compensated, attempting to sound grouchy. He could tell he failed, however, because more than anything else Sakura looked remarkably like she was trying not to laugh at him. Rolling his eyes, he sunk a little lower in the padded seat and went back to perusing the program book.

As the start of the concert approached, the auditorium became filled to what Syaoran assumed was maximum capacity. Looking around, he couldn't see an empty seat anywhere, and though he couldn't see all the way up into the balcony he assumed the same held for the seats there as well. Suddenly, he was just a little glad he had allowed Sakura to tear him away from the Japan vs. France match earlier than he'd planned; it would have been hell trying to find Daidouji Sonomi in this crowd. Speaking of which…

"How are we supposed to find Tomoyo-san after the concert?" he asked Sakura, tearing her away from whatever she was reading about the other choirs.

"Oh, that should be easy," Sakura replied confidently. Syaoran raised a skeptical brow at this. Easy? He'd seen Sakura create labyrinths with the Maze card that were undoubtedly easier to navigate than this crowd. "Tomoyo-chan said she'd meet us by the backstage door where all the choirs stay after they perform."

"And this backstage door would be where?"

"I… don't know," Sakura admitted, but she cut off Syaoran just as he was about to complain. "But Aunt Sonomi does! She's been here before and knows her way around."

"Alright, as long as someone does," he acquiesced just as the lights dimmed and he heard a mass of people rush for their seats behind him. A little man appeared on stage, lit up by a spotlight, welcoming everyone to the such and such annual Summer Choral Competition. Syaoran bit back a yawn and wondered just how long he would have to wait until the only choir he actually was half-interested in hearing would perform. His fingers tapped impatiently against the hard plastic arm rest until they were smothered by Sakura's hand. Without ever taking her eyes off the choir who was now lining up on the risers on stage, their light yellow robes glowing bright under the stage lights, she threaded her fingers through his own.

He could almost hear her unspoken reprimand of 'behave', though really, if this was his punishment Li Syaoran would surely be recalcitrant until the bitter end.

* * *

In a room this full, there were very few places he could find to stand. The lighting platforms above the second floor balcony seats were the only spot he could be assured that he wouldn't be bothered, so that was where he went. He perched on the edge of the metal grill with precision balance, careful not to disturb the delicate equilibrium of lights and pulleys the technicians had undoubtedly spent vast amounts of their time rigging. 

Truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain why he had even bothered attending. Every group of those children that had performed had been mediocre at best, though judging by their applause the audience was enjoying every minute of it. He rubbed his temple, attempting to sooth his fast encroaching headache. Apparently the only thing the centuries had changed was the venue – the quality of the performances was just as sub par as it had been before his exile.

Again the audience applauded loudly as the latest of the pathetic choirs left the stage. He felt a little tempted to add his own applause, if only because he was relieved to see the group leave. Holding out little hope for the quality of the next group, he was disappointed to be proved right: this blue and white clad choir was just as awful as the four that had preceded it. He would have left altogether had that not gone against his explicit instructions: keep an eye on the girl. As far as he was concerned, though, the girl was just as boring as every other person crammed into the room below. She was hardly worth babysitting, even though he could feel her aura pulsing against his skin from all the way up here, just as these choirs of humans were hardly worth listening to.

There was applause and the piano changed melodies once more when suddenly he found his eyes drawn down to the stage. The voice that floated up to his ears was pure and clear as polished glass. It handled the intricate pattern of runs with effortless ease and balanced perfectly with the group when they came in some time later. He at once found himself fascinated. More than fascinated – entranced. As the song ended and the girl acknowledged the applause, he found his own hands adding to the clamor. He followed the soloist for as long as he could see her until she had disappeared off stage with the rest of the choir. The platform creaked a little beneath him as he stood up and made his way hurriedly towards the stairs.

The girl could wait. Assignment or not, he had other business to attend to at the moment.

* * *

The room behind backstage was positively buzzing with the sort of excited, euphoric energy that only came after a successful performance. Tomoyo couldn't stop a small grin from creeping onto her face as she mingled amongst her classmates still dressed in their blue and white choir robes: their performance had been nearly flawless and Tomoyo herself was relieved and a tad proud that her solo had come off without a hitch. Despite the partially blinding stage lights, she had still been able to make out her mother, Sakura, and Li-kun in the audience, all watching and listening attentively. Their presence had buoyed her like it always had in the past and she remembered feeling almost as if the notes she sang were floating out of her, as if singing the song was as easy as breathing. 

"Daidouji-san, you sounded amazing!" squealed a group of upperclassmen girls as Tomoyo wandered in their direction. "We'll get first place for sure, don't you think?"

"We performed very well," Tomoyo admitted, "but the other groups also sounded lovely." Which was the truth, and being her diplomatic self it was a fact Tomoyo could not overlook. The girls nodded in assent, and promptly began muttering amongst themselves about what flaws they had picked out during the other choirs' performances. Tomoyo used the chance to slip away, making her way to the exit where she had promised her mother and Sakura that she would be waiting afterwards. There was still one last choir performing at that very moment, so it would be a little while before the entire program was finished and the audience was free to leave, but Tomoyo saw nothing wrong with arriving early and waiting a little.

A few more people stopped to tell her how truly beautiful her voice had sounded on her solo and to each Tomoyo smiled and thanked them for their compliments, but she never stayed long to chat. Looking down at her watch, she estimated that the last choir should have been finishing up their set any minute. After that, it would probably take everybody at least five minutes to get around the crowds to the backstage area, though knowing her mother she would probably have a path cleared for her the second the applause stopped.

When she reached the door, Tomoyo realized she was still wearing her choir robe. The weight of the fabric over her clothes underneath, combined with the heat of so many students mingling in a relatively small space in summer was proving to be quite uncomfortable. A few beads of sweat trailed down her neck only to be lost under the collar of her white blouse. Reaching back, Tomoyo unzipped the zipper and pulled the robe over her head, her motions deliberate and meticulous.

A single white calla lily greeted her when her vision was no longer obscured by the layers of pale blue and white fabric. Tomoyo blinked in surprise.

"What…?"

"For you," replied the person who was currently holding the flower out to her in a voice so smooth and melodious that she couldn't help but look up. Tomoyo's eyes trailed slowly from the long, pale fingers that lightly grasped the flower, up a darkly clothed arm and finally to the face of the stranger who had somehow managed to approach her without making a sound. For a moment, Tomoyo found herself completely transfixed; the young man who stood in front of her could only be described as flawless. Tall with a lean frame, he was neither too skinny nor too muscled. Perfectly straight dark hair fell across his brow and down past his chin and Tomoyo found it difficult not to give into the strange urge to tuck it behind his ears, if only so she could see the rest of his features more clearly. For what she saw was astounding: smooth, pale skin with no blemish in sight, an elegant nose, strong but somehow inquisitive brow, and his eyes… The moment Tomoyo looked into his eyes she found herself frozen. Their deep golden hue was at once the most unnatural and yet the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A small part of her mind, the part that was still somehow functioning above the most basic level, insisted it must have been contact lenses, but there was something so inherently striking about them that she quickly decided they had to be natural.

The sound of a binder falling to the floor nearby snapped Tomoyo out of her daze, and she was mortified to find that somehow in the last few moments her hand had moved, apparently of its own volition, halfway up to the man's face. It hung in midair for a few seconds longer before she retracted it hastily, an unavoidable flush creeping quickly up her neck and across her face.

"Excuse me, I don't know what came over me," Tomoyo apologized, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the ground. But the ground apparently wasn't safe either, because when she looked at the ground she could see just how close his feet seemed to be to her own and she wondered just when the space between them had gotten so small or if it had always been so.

"It is alright. Your behavior in this case is no more aberrant than I would have expected." Despite herself, Tomoyo felt a warm wave of relief wash over her at his words, and more importantly at the sound of his voice. "Do you not find my gift acceptable?"

"Your gift?" Tomoyo wondered aloud, and when he gestured her eyes flew down from his face to the flower. Just when had her gaze moved back to his face? "Oh, it's lovely," she murmured, despite her confusion. Her hand brushed his as she took the lily – a perfect specimen, delicate and aromatic with the petals curled just right – and she wasn't entirely sure why a little thrill ran up her spine at the contact. It was completely irrational to be so enchanted by someone she had only met just now, and yet… "Thank you very much."

"It's not nearly as lovely as the way you sang tonight, Daidouji Tomoyo." Her name. He'd said her name even though she knew she hadn't mentioned it in the space of the last few minutes, and she certain it had never sounded more beautiful than it did when he said it. But there was a part of her that was positively yelling at her to get out, to run as far away from this strange man as she could possibly manage, because she had learned as a child that strangers who knew your name were not to be trusted. The only problem was that Tomoyo couldn't quite find it in herself to focus on anything besides the lily currently resting gently in her hand and the ethereally handsome man who had just presented her with it. Everything else seemed secondary, as if it could be dealt with later by someone else. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me for a walk outside?"

Her mind was veritably screaming 'NO!', so it came as a great surprise to Tomoyo that she suddenly found herself being guided expertly through the mingling crowds in the back hallways and out a small side door. The man's hand was chill in her own, though she wasn't certain if that was because his was too cold or hers was too warm. The young man didn't seem to notice anything, however, and Tomoyo was content to leave things at that.

She walked along side him in silence for a few minutes, evening dew coating her shoes and the only noises the sounds of cicada chirping in the nearby trees and the gentle swish of her skirt over her legs as she matched the young man step for step. He seemed to move with a grace equal to his physical beauty; there was a sort of fluid strength to his step that Tomoyo hadn't thought possible for any person. A cat, maybe, could be capable of such effortless motion, but certainly not a human.

Tomoyo was vaguely aware that she was, in all likelihood, staring, but as with before, she couldn't bring herself to care or to stop for that matter.

As they passed out of the pool of yellow-orange light cast by one of the safety lights above a side door, the rational part of Tomoyo's brain finally took over, if only for a second.

"What is your name?"

It was a logical question; once the words passed from her lips, Tomoyo realized just how absurd she was for walking around in the dark with a man she didn't even know the name of yet. The young man stopped, and turned to face her. His face was unreadable, which made it all the more fascinating. The way the corners of his mouth curved down at the edges, the way a little line formed between his brows when they furrowed ever so slightly, the way he cocked his head slightly as if he was only just now truly looking at her and seeing her for her true value, all these things served to hold her attention and drown out any remotely rational thoughts.

"I am Hayato," he answered eventually. She waited for more, another name – a family name – but he remained silent, his pale skin seeming to glow in the darkness of the evening.

"Ha… ya… to…" she repeated slowly. Tomoyo couldn't help but think that each syllable sounded almost bastardized when she said it. "Hayato." Again, it sounded wrong, like she was saying it as the worst curse instead of a mere name.

"It sounds beautiful when you say it, Daidouji Tomoyo," Hayato's voice whispered in her ear, and Tomoyo wondered just when he had moved around behind her. But his hands were trailing lightly across her shoulders and through her hair, and she could still feel his nose brush over her ear so she was too distracted to truly worry over such an inconsequential detail as that. "Has anyone ever told you just how lovely you are?" Before Tomoyo could find the words to reply, he continued. "So lovely…"

His too-cold fingers moved softly across the exposed skin of her neck now and his touch made Tomoyo shiver. But she didn't back away. _Couldn't_ back away, really, for she realized she was reveling in the sensation of his feather-light touches and the anticipation. Though what she was anticipating, she remained unsure. Then she felt a slight itch on her neck. As if in a dream, her free hand – the hand not still holding onto the long stem of the calla lily – rose to scratch it, only to encounter Hayato's hand already over the spot. Tomoyo pulled her hand back immediately, her head suddenly feeling remarkably light. She almost felt as if it would float from her shoulders were it not already connected by her neck.

"Tomoyo-chan! Tomoyo-chan!" The voice calling her name sounded as if were coming from far away, over the distance of half a city or the like. Even though it sounded urgent, try as she could, Tomoyo couldn't bring herself to respond. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to sit down and figure out a way to stop her head from soaring off into the night sky. She placed a hand to her temple to steady herself, the same hand that had just moments ago covered Hayato's, and was surprised when her fingers left a sticky wet spot on her skin.

Looking down at her fingers, it took Tomoyo a few moments to realize that the dark stain on her skin was her own blood. She turned, far too quickly, and nearly lost her balance as her world spun around itself. Through the dizzy haze, however, she could somehow still make out Hayato's now-smiling face as clear as day.

He raised one elegantly long finger to his mouth and ran his tongue over it. What blood had been there seconds before vanished. "So lovely…"

--------  
((Note: Besides the fact that I personally love lilies, and that I think lilies are a very Tomoyo-esque flower, AND that Tomoyo herself loves lilies (according to her profile in the manga), calla lilies carry the connotation of beauty. Which I thought was incredibly appropriate in this case. -grin-))


	3. Chapter Two

**All That Remains**

_Chapter Two  
_

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

As soon as the last choir had departed left, the little man from earlier had appeared back on stage, thanking everyone for attending and saying just how more and more stupendous the choirs became with each passing year before also leaving. Sakura had followed her aunt then through the groups of people loitering in the aisles and halls all the way to the backstage. Daidouji Sonomi had always been a particularly determined woman, and clearing a path to ensure her fast arrival at the arranged meeting spot with her daughter was as simple a task for her as snapping her fingers. In fact, that was all she had to do for her complement of bodyguards to start firmly yet politely reshaping the crowds so that Daidouji Sonomi et al could proceed easily.

Sakura had followed her aunt through the back corridors of the auditorium, Syaoran not far behind. After a little while, all the cream walls and sage green doors started to look the same, and she was inordinately glad she hadn't attempted to find her way around without Aunt Sonomi's guidance.

"Ah, finally. Here we are," Sonomi said as they stopped in front of a door that looked no different than any of the handfuls they had passed earlier. Upon opening it, the three were blasted with a wave of sound from seemingly hundreds of conversations all occurring on top of one another. Many of the people in the room still wore their performance robes, and there were little clumps of blue and yellow and black scattered around the room. Sakura saw a few people she recognized from school talking excitedly nearby, and she had smiled at them when they glanced over and waved at her and Syaoran.

But there was one familiar face that was missing. And no matter where they looked or who they asked, nobody seemed to have seen a girl fitting Daidouji Tomoyo's description around. Looking over at her aunt, Sakura could tell that Sonomi was seconds away from calling the police and ordering a full-out search of the building and grounds; in fact, her hand was clenched in her jacket pocket already, undoubtedly turning on the phone that rested there.

"Oh, good evening Daidouji-san," greeted a girl still wearing Seijuu High School's robes suddenly. Sonomi almost jumped in surprise, so absorbed was she in scanning the room for her daughter. Sakura thought the girl might have been the third year who was the choir's president, but she wasn't entirely certain. "Did you enjoy the performance?"

"Where's Tomoyo?" Sonomi wasted no time getting to the point, her eyes wide and serious. Sakura was a little worried she might take out her anxiety on the poor sempai, but for the moment at least Daidouji Sonomi kept her urge to shake the student in front of her until she told her exactly where her daughter was in check.

"Tomoyo-san? I saw her leave only a few minutes ago. I thought she was going to find you…" the sempai trailed off, a vaguely worried expression forming on her face. "Come to think of it, there was this guy with her. I'd never seen him before – I just assumed he was a friend…"

Sonomi had bolted before the sempai was able to finish her sentence. Sakura could hear her racing through the halls calling alternately for her daughter and for her guards to search the auditorium for Tomoyo. Turning back, she saw the sempai looking extremely confused.

"Is there something wrong?"

Sakura didn't know what to say. She _hoped_ there was nothing wrong and this was all just a sort of weird misunderstanding and Tomoyo really had just met an old friend but there was an unpleasant lump in her gut that was telling her this was something more than a chance meeting of estranged acquaintances. Besides, didn't Sakura know nearly everyone Tomoyo knew?

"No, everything's fine," Syaoran filled in when Sakura remained silent. "Don't worry." Sakura watched as he flashed a quick, reassuring smile at the sempai. She nodded, almost looking convinced and wandered back into the crowds of students. "Come on," Syaoran muttered, his voice barely audible over the incessant chatter. "If we split up, we can find her faster."

"You don't think…?"

"I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is I don't like it. Here, I'll go left, you go right." Without looking back to make sure Sakura heeded his directions, Syaoran sprinted off down the corridor to the left, stopping at every door he encountered and flinging it open. Sakura stared for a few seconds before she took off out the door to the backstage room and down the corridor to the right.

"Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura called, her footsteps carrying her faster and faster through the halls. She didn't bother to apologize to the people she ran into in the process. "Tomoyo-chan!" Her heart beat so fast in her chest it was making her head light, but all Sakura could pay attention to at the moment was the heavy, sick feeling of dread settling in her stomach. It wasn't like Tomoyo not to be where she said she would be, and even more unlike her to walk off with some stranger. Something bad had happened to her; that was the only explanation. Sakura's mind flashed back to the newspaper article her father had shown her the week before.

_Five people missing… all disappeared at night…_

Sakura nearly tripped over her own feet as she stopped suddenly in front of a small side door. It stood ajar, letting in the humid night air and sounds of cicadas and other night insects. There was nothing special about the door to suggest her friend might have passed through it earlier, but she hurried through it all the same, roughly pushing the heavy thing open and stumbling outside onto the dewy grass. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light; there was a safety light spreading a weak orange-tinted glow above the door she had just exited, but the moon and stars were blotted out by thick clouds, and directly next to the auditorium lay a dense patch of woods from which no light emanated, not even the passing headlights of the cars on the motorway she could hear over the night stillness.

"Tomoyo-chan!" she tried again, moving quickly but carefully through the darkness. Her nerves were on edge; Sakura couldn't remember ever feeling as if she was wound as tightly as she was now. There had been that time on the class trip to the beach when she'd first started catching Clow cards, but even then with the threat of ghosts and disappearing friends a part of her had been sure that everything would be alright in the end. "Tomoyo-chan! Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura yelled again, desperation creeping slowly but surely into her tone.

Her invincible spell looped in her mind like a broken record. _Surely everything will be alright… surely everything will be alright…_ It was hard to stop the terrible feeling that everything might _not_ be alright in the end, though, but for the life of her she couldn't explain just what had her so scared.

And then Sakura saw her – saw _them_ – near the edge of the tree line, just past the last pool of light from the auditorium's exits' safety lights. It was too dark and she was still too far away to see the stranger's features, but there were a few things Sakura noticed right away, regardless of the lack of light. Of those, the thing that preoccupied her most, however, was that the man was standing far too close to Tomoyo for Sakura's comfort, though Tomoyo herself didn't seem to be protesting the proximity at all.

"Tomoyo-chan!" Sakura yelled again, hand flying to her key as she sprinted over to where her friend stood. She roughly yanked the chain it was attached to over her neck as she ran. A small part of her mind told her it didn't matter if she carried the key or wore it around her neck, the transformation it would need to undergo would be the same. But that part was drowned out by the part of her mind that was telling her to run faster because in the weak orange light, she thought she saw Tomoyo put her hand to her head and stumble before collapsing entirely into the stranger's arms. "Tomoyo-chan!"

"Do you not say anything else?"

Sakura stopped not ten feet from where her friend lay slumped in the strange man's arms. Arm, actually, as his other arm was attached to a hand that was busy playing around a spot on Tomoyo's neck that seemed just a little darker than the rest of her skin. Slowly, gracefully, the man raised his free hand to his mouth. Sakura thought she saw a flash of a tongue reflect a bit of the orange glow of the safety light.

"What…" she stammered, finding it hard to say the words when her mind was insisting this was all a huge dream so it shouldn't be bothered to do something silly like form sentences. "What did you do to Tomoyo-chan?" She could feel the blunt edges of her key digging almost painfully into the skin and bones of her fingers and palm as her grip on it tightened unconsciously. And all the while there was something nagging at the back of her mind, something that was telling her that she'd seen this all before and that she should know_exactly_ what was going on and above all else she should be very afraid.

"Ah, so the girl _does_ speak. And here I was thinking you had only managed to master your friend's name in your short life. I take it she is your friend, no?" the stranger drawled, the fingers of his free hand playing lazily over Tomoyo's neck once more. He seemed to shift her closer to him, and Sakura was certain she heard her friend groan.

"Yes, Tomoyo-chan is my friend. Let her go." She tried to sound intimidating, or at the very least serious but Sakura had the distinct impression that her voice was too high and shrill with uncertainty and fear to pull off either.

"Hmm… what a pity," the man continued, completely disregarding Sakura's demand. "My lovely Tomoyo will undoubtedly be saddened by your demise."

"Let her go. Now." Her heart was racing and had at some point climbed up into her throat, nearly causing her to choke on her words as she ground them out. All of her muscles felt jumpy and tense, ready to dodge any attack at a moment's notice. Her hand tightened even more around her key, and she wouldn't have been surprised to find that her knuckles had gone white and her nails were leaving little red crescents at the spots where they bit into the skin of her palm. The words to the release incantation were at the tip of her tongue, but she yet refrained from saying them. Magic would be the last resort.

"And if I don't? What are you going to do? Will you kill me?" His eyes flashed, reflecting the orange-tinted safety light, and for that instant Sakura didn't see a man but rather an animal, feral and dangerous, standing before her. Slowly, delicately, as if he was laying down his most treasured possession, the man lowered Tomoyo to the ground. She didn't move from the spot, but even through the darkness Sakura saw her friend's arm move to the dark spot on her neck.

Tomoyo's whisper carried over the still night air. "Sakura… chan…"

And then the stranger moved. So fast, so agile, he was nothing more than lighter blur of dark against the black of the evening. He stopped a hairsbreadth from Sakura, his hand grasping her neck lightly. Sakura tried to shriek, but the sound was muffled as he covered her mouth with his other hand. She resisted, but each time she was almost free of his grasp, his hand would tighten and she would be worse off then ever before.

"_I_ could kill _you_, you know. But somehow," he paused, mouth opening into a wide, tooth-bearing grin, "somehow I don't think _you_ could kill _me_."

Sakura struggled. She squirmed, she tried desperately to claw at the vice-like grip the strange man had on her throat, she punched, but nothing seemed to work. And with each passing second the already dark world seemed to be growing more and more impenetrably black around the edges and she found it harder and harder to stop her world from spinning out of control.

A second later it had all stopped though, and Sakura greedily gulped in breath after breath of precious air. A quick glance over in the stranger's direction showed him doubled over at the waist and Sakura could only assume that she must have kicked him in just the right spot just then. She scrambled to her feet, coughing roughly a few times. Her throat throbbed from the pressure and her head still felt a little dizzy but she pushed those feelings aside when she saw the strange man who couldn't possibly be a man stand up straight once more. His expression was annoyed, though there was something more to it than that. Anger, possibly. As he advanced, Sakura backed away instinctively.

The words to summon her key flew out of her mouth without her truly thinking about them. In a flash, the warm pendant in her hand grew and transformed into her familiar staff. It sat comfortably in her grip, even though it had been months since she'd last summoned it. Her actions made the strange man give pause, and in the residual light from the spell she caught him eying her up as if he was surveying a potential piece of meat at the grocery store.

"What are you going to do with that fancy staff of yours?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Sakura as he began to move closer again. Sakura wasn't having any of it, though, and moved back and to the side in response. The two ended up circling each other until Sakura's back was to a still-supine Tomoyo. "Surely you're not going to try and kill me _now_, are you?"

This time when he charged, Sakura was ready. A rush of energy passed through her body and before she could properly think about it, Jump had carried her far out of the stranger's grasp and onto an outstretched limb of a nearby tree. But before she could catch her breath, Sakura caught a glimpse of a streak of movement below and suddenly the branch was groaning under the weight of not one but two persons. She fled again, her next leap carrying her onto a low outcrop of the auditorium's roof. The ground, the trees, the roof… Sakura sped between the targets faster than she could keep track and each time she could sense the evil man not two paces behind her. Her heart was beating fit to burst from her chest, and a thin sheen of sweat uncomfortably coated her skin. And though she could feel the card's will to serve its friend and master until the end of time itself, Sakura could also feel Jump's strength flagging as her own energy was slowly but surely being used up.

"FLY!" she screamed, and a pair of wings pulled her abruptly up from her crash course with the next tree branch. Sakura gasped; her back ached as much as if she had been wearing a physical harness that had just been jerked. She hung there, suspended in midair and recovered her breath. Below her, the man landed with cat-like grace on the tree branch. Sakura acted before he had a chance to move again. "WINDY!"

Windy's elegant form appeared in front of Sakura, hovering in midair for less than a second before speeding off in the direction Sakura had pointed her staff. The blast of rushing air chilled her sweat-dampened skin, and Sakura shivered as she watched Windy's flowing arms bind themselves around the man's torso, legs, and arms.

She felt the moment he broke her spell before she actually saw him do so. The way he snapped through Windy's chains created an almost physical pain in her chest. Sakura watched in horror as Windy dispersed, its form melting back into the air as if it had never been summoned at all. With that grin that was more animal than human, the man made his way to the fragile end of the branch and launched himself up at her. And even though she had wings and a head start on him, the space between closed rapidly and he somehow showed no signs of slowing down. Sakura looked down in horror as his outstretched arm grew closer and closer to her legs until finally she felt his too-cold fingers close vice-like around her ankle. Time seemed to slow down as she felt his weight combined with her own drag her down towards the far away ground. The magic supporting Fly snapped, just as painfully as Windy's had, and she felt the reassuring tingle of magic across the skin of her back fade as she plummeted to earth.

Her life didn't flash before her eyes, just the inky dark streaks of trees did. But she was still convinced she would die then, and she shrieked in fear as a result.

Seconds before she reached the ground, Sakura felt a strong current of wind rise up underneath her. The air sped from her lungs as she hit the ground a lot slower than she had only seconds ago expected and she rolled roughly across the grass. The rush of wind had not been quite enough to completely break the fall, but it was enough to ensure that she lived. Pulling herself up, sore, dizzy, and still wheezing for breath, Sakura found herself facing a slightly winded Syaoran, sword drawn and ofudas close at hand, though she wasn't sure if he was short of breath from running or from throwing out such a strong spell all of a sudden. Probably a bit of both.

She had never been more relieved to see her boyfriend's face than she was at that moment. If the situation had been different, she would have hugged him tightly and refused to let go until each and every ounce of fear had been replaced by the familiar, confident, comforting warmth he seemed to exude.

"No one ever mentioned that you came with an accessory."

But the situation wasn't different. The man – the creature, whatever he was – stood in front of them, unscathed. It couldn't be possible. He had to have hit the ground just as hard, if not a little harder than she had. And yet there he was, dusting off his dark, high collared jacket as if he'd merely been hit by an unpleasant dust storm.

"I came as soon as I felt the cards being used. Are you alright?" Syaoran asked urgently, but quietly enough that only Sakura could hear him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Sakura automatically. She ignored the fact that her chest ached from breathing so hard, that her throat still throbbed from where it had been squeezed, and that there was a pain that was so bright it was almost physical burning deep in her chest from the two times the strange man in front of them had violently broken her spells. There were more important things to worry about at the moment. "He's got Tomoyo-chan, back there behind him."

"Do you want me to-?"

She knew what he was about to ask, and while a part of her was tempted to let Syaoran have a go at the man in front of them still working the last bit of dust out of his dark slacks, she didn't want him to get hurt as well. And he would, if she let him go in alone, so she didn't. "No, you get Tomoyo-chan. Make sure she gets out safe."

Syaoran looked rather grim in response, but Sakura put on her best determined face, the look that booked no opposition with him or any other acquaintance and in the face of that he nodded his assent. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sakura stood up and raised her staff.

Evil or not, inhuman or not, homicidal or not, she really didn't want to do this. A nearly overwhelming part of her still held out the increasingly unrealistic hope that maybe this was all some sort of crazy dream and that this man, whoever he was, would be a normal nice guy if she could only just open her eyes and see that. But deep down, she realized he wasn't. He had tried to kill her not once but twice just now, and had had no qualms about doing so. Never before in her life had Kinomoto Sakura faced such cold-hearted malice; a characteristic like that just didn't exist in her world. It didn't fit. She didn't know what to do. And so, aching, winded, and numb to the core, Sakura did the only thing she could think of to do.

She protected what was hers.

Firey sprang forth from the tip of her staff at her call, more explosive than ever before. Its heat washed over her face and she felt her skin go numb from the extremeness of temperature for just a moment. The impish figure sped forward, its flames licking the wet grass and leaving a trail of steam in its wake. This time when her card encircled the man, he did not break free. Sakura felt Firey's magic hold, burning strong and true in the night. Above the roar of the flames she could hear a shout, low and angry, and the stranger ran towards the woods bringing Firey with him. He made it only a few more steps, however, before he collapsed, still wreathed in flames. After a few moments more, she recalled Firey, and the card flew back to her obediently. By its light, she could make out the singed remains of whomever or whatever the strange man with the dark hair and animal eyes had been. She tried to ignore the twinge of guilt and remorse she felt at the sight, but found she could not.

Behind the spot where he lay, Sakura could make out Syaoran gently lifting Tomoyo's still-limp form. "She's okay!" he called as he turned back, and Sakura felt a tight band of worry loosen in her chest. "She's unconscious, but she's okay."

"I'm so glad," Sakura sighed, as Syaoran returned. As he said, Tomoyo looked fine, except for the scratch high on her neck. It didn't look very deep, though, and the blood had long since coagulated around the wound. Her chest rose and fell with steady, deep breaths, and Sakura was pretty sure her friend was actually _asleep_, though how she could be so when there had been all the commotion of a magical fight going on around her, Sakura wasn't certain. "We should get her back to Aunt Sonomi -"

She broke off, unsure if she wasn't just imagining things. But then it came again, louder this time, fuller, and oh so familiar that it made her brain hurt trying to remember just why she was so instinctually terrified of the laugh that carried across the evening air. Sakura's grip tightened around her staff so much so that it became painful, but the pain wasn't nearly enough to distract her from the all-encompassing sense of fear that pervaded her mind. A quick, frightened glance at Syaoran showed he too was worried, though not nearly so lost to his fear as she was. His grip around his sword tightened and he pulled Tomoyo just a little closer to his chest, ready to make a break for it if need be. Sakura's eyes fixed on the wound on Tomoyo's neck as for just a moment, and in that time the cloud cover broke to reveal a bright half moon.

_Laughter… blood… moonlight…_

Sakura's mind felt as if someone had finally found all the missing puzzle pieces and filled in each and every gap that had been nagging at her for the past week and a half. And then her eyes latched onto the figure, lit by the last rays of moonlight before the moon disappeared once again, and the puzzle was complete.

"You. You're from my dreams," she murmured, too wholly petrified and too fascinated to do anything more than gape at the woman with the long dark hair and the flowing red robes standing not ten feet from her.

"You are equally as impudent in person as you are in your dreams, I see," she spoke, and her voice was harsh to the point that Sakura wanted to cover her ears from the pain and yet was at the same time the most beautiful voice in the entire world. "I also see my idiot brother couldn't do his job properly." Her eyes flicked down to where the lump of the strange man still rested, disdain evident in her expression. She bent down, her hair falling forward in perfect sheets over her shoulders, and touched a hand to her brother's still body. Both Sakura and Syaoran watched, their initial curiosity turning to horror as they saw a series of sparks race down the woman's pale fingertips and dance across the burned man's skin. There was a moment of absolute silence when the cicadas dared not chirp and even the distant sounds of cars on the highway were muted and then the man stood up again, stretching his long arms over his head as if he were simply waking up from a long nap. Before their eyes, Sakura and Syaoran watched as his charred flesh lightened and healed completely. After a minute, it was as if he had never encountered Firey at all.

"What…? Who…?" but Sakura couldn't finish her thought for there were too many questions racing around her mind, each vying to be the one asked first.

"Who are you?" demanded Syaoran, speaking where Sakura found herself struck dumb. Sakura could sense his magic stirring, roiling just under the surface of his being like a wave about to spill over. The muscles in his legs tensed, and he crouched a little, ready to spring off and carry the unconscious Tomoyo away from danger at a second's notice.

The woman, however, deigned not to answer, and instead looked over to her brother. He shrugged, a fluid movement of his shoulders, and refused to meet her gaze. "The girl has an accomplice, it seems."

"I see…" Her eyes traveled up and down Syaoran's figure twice before she turned away, almost bored. "He is even less of a nuisance than the girl. Why did you not deal with him earlier?" she snapped, her hand whipping up from her side and cuffing the back of her brother's head with a resounding smack.

The man cradled his head where it had just encountered his sister's hand. "I would have," he ground out, clearly irritated, "but I was taken by surprise." His eyes briefly flickered over to where Tomoyo lay still in Syaoran's arms and as they did so his sister's eyes followed.

"You will never accomplish anything if you continue to think with your stomach, Hayato."

"It was not my stomach with which I was thinking…" he retorted testily, his eyes still riveted unnervingly on Tomoyo.

Sakura saw Syaoran glance down at Tomoyo once more, then back to the two terribly beautiful strangers in front of them. An expression of horrified understand dawned on his face. "Sakura," he whispered urgently. "They're _vampires_."

"Yes, yes, how very astute you are, boy." Both Sakura and Syaoran looked at the female vampire in front of them, the one Sakura had seen in oh so many dreams of late and suddenly everything made more sense to her. The blood, the everlasting Night, the moonlight, even the disappearances from the newspaper. This woman, this _thing_ and its kin were responsible. Sakura found herself suddenly extremely cold, and it was impossible to stop the tremors that ran up and down her arms and legs. Her knees knocked together almost painfully and she was worried she wouldn't be able to stand if this kept up.

"What… what do you want here?" A remote part of Sakura's brain was proud she'd only stuttered through the first word of her question. "We don't want any trouble, so please leave."

She didn't think there was anything funny about her request, but apparently the woman found it hilarious. The same overpowering laughter as before filled Sakura's ears and mind until she cringed. Next to her, Syaoran winced and narrowed his eyes against the sensation.

"We shall leave when our business is done," the woman said when her laughter had subsided. "In fact, if you cooperate, we shall be able to leave before the morning sun rises."

"Cooperate?"

Both she and her brother smiled at this, their own little joke, and Sakura instantly wished she hadn't asked for clarification. "The sooner you are disposed of, girl," the vampire woman explained, cruel smile never leaving her lips, "the sooner my brother and I shall be able to move on to far more glorious sights than this little backwater of the world."

_Disposed of_. The words made Sakura feel quite numb inside, even more numb than before when it was just physical exhaustion and magical depletion she was dealing with. But they didn't surprise her. She remembered the dreams, after all, and she could perfectly recall at that moment each and every occasion the evil woman in the red robes had cornered her in the realm of Night and bleeding sakura trees and informed her that she would kill her.

"I'm not leaving without my Tomoyo-san," the brother – Hayato – grouched, interrupting Sakura's thoughts. As he said this, his fingers seemed to elongate, the nails growing out like wire-thin claws. "And this annoyance," he growled, gesturing at Syaoran, "is in the way. With your permission, sister, I shall do away with him immediately."

"You have my blessing, Hayato."

The words had barely left her mouth before Hayato raced forward, claws bared, straight to where Syaoran was standing. Syaoran had only just enough time to lower Tomoyo to the ground and roll out of the path of the vampire's scythe-like claws before they came crashing down on the spot where he had just stood. Drawing his sword, he caught the next attack against the steal, grunting with the effort of keeping the razor-sharp edges of the claws as far from him as he could manage. The first lightning ofuda he threw in Hayato's direction seemed to have no effect, and neither did the wind or the water. Sakura could hear his labored breaths above the clash of sword on claw, and she wanted desperately to lend her assistance but the woman was still standing there not ten feet away, and Tomoyo still lay helpless on the ground. And so her feet remained rooted to that spot, though her mind screamed at her to pick up her friend and fly far, far away while the woman was distracted.

The woman's eyes followed Hayato's fight with Syaoran with a restrained sort of amusement for only a few moments longer, however, before she returned her gaze to Sakura. "To answer your question, girl, you may call me Miyako," she announced, and Sakura had the most terrible feeling that it was considered an honor to call this creature by its name. "And now that you know this, you shall die."

At that, Miyako surged forward, a smear of blood against the night. Before Sakura could even think, the vampire was in front of her and its hands were poised to swipe across her neck. As if in slow motion, she saw one hand draw back, impossibly long nails that were somehow simultaneously needles _and_ claws reflecting the orange glow of the nearby door light. Sakura raised her staff at the last possible second, summoning the first card that leaped into mind.

Miyako's claws swept down in a flash at the same instant a figure began to form in the small space between herself and Sakura. There was a resounding crack that Sakura felt all the way through her teeth and bones and that made her heart miss a beat. Both the woman and the girl were thrown back violently and the air once again rushed out of Sakura's lungs as her back connected painfully with a tree trunk.

Her vision was blinded as an overwhelmingly bright burst of Light exploded out from the now-broken ends of her staff.


End file.
